


The Hot Tub Sex Machine

by eostara



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Brief mention of Past Abuse, Foreplay, Hot Tub Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eostara/pseuds/eostara
Summary: It was not an ideal spot, but no one could say a hot tub did not come with its benefits.





	The Hot Tub Sex Machine

It had been a stupid idea. Nothing unusual by the standards of Dethklok – certainly not in their _top ten_ or even their _top fifty_ dumbest decisions – but no one could say it was bright. They had wanted to see who could stay awake the longest, had even promised ridiculous amounts of money to one another, promises which would never be kept. Even the least selfish of the band was ridiculously stingy at the end of the day. Thus, rather than a monetary goal, it was a test of masculinity.

What made it _particularly stupid_ was that the bet had been made in the hot tub. One of the most relaxing places in the _world_ , let alone Mordhaus, and they _still_ thought they could keep themselves active through sheer willpower. Toki had been certain he would win from the word **go** ; his sleep had been so infrequent as of late, he might as well have taken _all their money_ then and there. Of course, Skwisgaar and Murderface had laughed off his declaration of victory, and Toki opted to **outwardly** shrug it off and **inwardly** seethe over what he saw as _cruelty_. He **would** win. He would **_show them._ ** They were going to **_eat their words_** , and he would _laugh_ at their misfortune.

Nathan was the first to crack, oddly enough. He got even less sleep than Toki did, leaving Toki no choice but to assume his awful sleep schedule had finally caught up to him. With drooping eyes and slurred words, Nathan crawled out of the hot tub and grabbed the nearest towel to dry himself with. "Fuck this," he had mumbled. "You douchebags have fun." And then he was gone, just like that.

Skwisgaar went next. "Dis ams dildos. I don't gots to proves nothin'ks to yous guys." Because he was the best of them all, of course. Why else would he give up so soon, arms crossed and cheeks puffed as he stifled a yawn? He would not immediately go to sleep – Toki knew him _better_ than that – but a victory was a victory all the same. He did not even **try** to stop himself from smirking at Skwisgaar's back.

It took longer to get Pickles to crack. He slept whenever he wanted, woke up whenever he wanted, and all the drugs and booze in the world would not be enough to quicken his loss. Besides, if Nathan and Skwisgaar were not willing to play adult for Toki and Murderface, what other choice did the drummer have? "You guys wanna watch somethin'?" Pickles asked after a while. The remote was in his hand before either of them could answer. "It’s gettin' boring as fuck just sittin' here. Gotta pass the time somehow."  _Pass the time_ meant _watching adult cartoons_ , and _watching adult cartoons_ meant sitting through Seth McFarlane’s latest claptrap and trying to find humor in it. Murderface was the only one who got a chuckle out of the ridiculous blood and gore on screen; Pickles was mostly immune, and Toki tried not to pay much attention to it.

He **did** make a mental note to write Seth McFarlane a _thank you_ letter though. Pickles eventually had enough, and like the lead guitarist and singer before him, crawled out of the tub cussing and groaning with irritation. "You guys better go t' sleep soon," he said as he wrapped himself up in his towel. "If I find out one a you drowned in th’ night, I ain’t playin’ any songs at yer funerals."

Murderface flipped him off. Toki stuck his tongue out at him. "We amn'ts gonna falls asleeps. We's gonna sees this through!" he countered. "Amn'ts our faults yous guys ams pussies."

"Yeah...yeah. What _he_ schaid." The middle finger was replaced with a thumb, jerked in Toki's direction while Murderface's free hand struggled to find the remote. "Fuck you. Not havin’ any faith in usch...fuckin’ jackassch."

"Suit yerselves." Pickles shrugged and stepped out. Dethklok's resident man-children were left all by their lonesome. At least Seth McFarlane was out of the picture; the instant Murderface had the remote, they were marathoning _Ren and Stimpy_.

Toki adored cartoons as much as the next person. The problem was that they made him sleepy, as that was the only reason he bothered watching them so late in the evening. He did not _want_ to go to sleep. Never mind the bet, his dreams were not kind to him in the least bit. "Thinks you can turns dat off?" he asked without looking away from the screen. Stimpy was in the process of removing his own skin to go skinny dipping.

Murderface did not look away either. He snickered, arm draped lazily over his belly, fingers drumming against his tattoos. "Nah. We're gettin' to the good part."

How predictable. Toki looked away from the television and pulled the best pair of puppy-dog eyes he could manage. "Come ons! Ams _cheatin's!_ "

"Aww, whatscha matter? You ain't fallin' aschleep on me, are ya?" Amusement turned to insult, and Murderface glared Toki down in a matter of seconds. So much for trying to look adorable. "What? You don’t wanna watch TV with me? You can juscht _schay scho_ , you fuckin' dick. I'm a _big boy!"_

"Ams not it! _Neithers_ of dat." Toki crossed his arms and stuck his bottom lip out. "Ams just...puts us ats the disads-vantage! I amn’ts de one who grows up with dis cartoon. Can't sits through alls of its at night." Yeah, that was **definitely** the reason. "You’s bein's a filthy cheaters, Moidaface. It amn'ts fair."

"Hey, I play fair _all the time_ ," Murderface scowled. "Why ya gotta be scho childisch?"

So being childish and angry while arguing would not work. He would have to go for flattery instead. Toki sighed through his nose and tilted his head, blue eyes as wide and pleading as he could possibly make them. " _Please?_ " he asked. "I can'ts _possibly_ haves a chance with the TVs on."

"...Fine." Murderface squinted and pressed the power button. The TV shut off right as Ren suggested they frolic. "But I'm gonna complain the whole time."

Toki grinned and leaned back against the wall of the tub. "Thanks you!"

Murderface huffed, turned away, and they were left in silence. At least Toki could _think_ in silence, even if his thoughts were more than a little _fast._ He could keep himself awake by staring at the ceiling, connecting non-existent dots and remembering things best left buried. Gone was the time where they bothered him enough to silence him or dampen his mood. Instead it was like watching the movie of someone else's life. Someone _else_ was forced to carry wood for Aslaug Wartooth. Someone _else_ watched Aslaug Wartooth fall through the ice. Someone _else_ almost got killed on stage countless times. _Toki Wartooth_ was sitting in Mordhaus where he had always **belonged.**

He hummed quietly. Not a tune, but a noise. His fingers drummed idly against the rim of the tub, only an occasional glance spared in Murderface's direction. Any minute now, Murderface would give up and turn in. He would bitch and moan about how Toki had cheated – as if Toki would not have done the same if the tables had been turned – and Toki would have his dignity restored for a day. He would get tired of staring at Toki, crawl out of the water, and head to his bedroom to do god-knows-what. He would – stare at Toki?

Toki looked again from his peripherals. Sure enough, Murderface was looking back, his expression unreadable. If Toki had gotten good at hiding his emotions beneath a mask of indifference, Murderface had completely surpassed him. The only things giving away his interest were wide eyes and a tense posture, and when he caught Toki looking back, he made damn sure to look away. He had not even opened his mouth to complain like he said he would...or if he had, Toki had not heard him.

Either way, Murderface had been **staring** at him.

"...Ams somethin's wrong?" Toki asked. Naturally, it was the first conclusion he jumped to; Murderface wanted to say something and had trouble getting the words out. Even someone as talkative as him could get their tongue tied now and again.

Murderface did not answer immediately. He blinked one eye after the other, then shook himself back into the waking world. "No. Nothin'. The fuck are you lookin' at me for?"

"You was lookin's first."

"No I waschn't. Yer full of shit." Murderface scowled, crossed one leg over the other, and pointedly looked away. Toki ought to have been used to his lies by then. He made them all the time; he did not know how to do anything else whenever he was caught doing something he believed he _should not be doing._ It was a defense mechanism. Even _Toki_ knew that.

It still pissed him off.

"You **was** lookin's first," he said again, a bit more heated. "You can'ts get mads at me for lookin's back at you. It amn'ts fair." As if Murderface knew **how** to be fair. He did not even dignify Toki with an argument. He waved off the comment like it was nothing, much more focused on the TV he had **just** turned off.

"I ain't mad." He fell quiet. Then he scoffed. "I ain't mad. Yer juscht bein' schtupid."  _Stupid Toki._ That was what they **all** thought, and Toki did little to prove them wrong. Maybe he _was_ stupid, but his eyes had not failed him. It was not **his** fault Murderface wanted to hide himself from the truth.

He probably just wanted to see how sleepy Toki was getting. _That_ made sense; Murderface wanted to win so **desperately** , he was willing to try and find a way to sabotage the rhythm guitarist somehow. One might argue Murderface was not _bright enough_ to pull something like that off, but Toki knew better. He sneered and crossed his arms, one leg leisurely placed over the other. "Ams you gettin's _sleepy?_ " he asked. One part of him was genuinely concerned. Most of him was irritable that Murderface had supposedly tried ( _and failed_ ) to be sneaky.

Either way, that had apparently _not_ been the angle poor Willy was going for. He looked stunned as he wheeled to face Toki again, tired eyes wide at the accusation. "No — yesch – I mean – I waschn't doin' _anything!_ Schtop bein’ scho _paranoid!_ "

"You was doin's _somethin's_ , and I's gonna gets to de bottom of it." Toki reached out and placed a hand on Murderface’s shoulder. "You can **lies** all you wants; I sees right through ya. Looks at you! Too sleepys to evens – "

Murderface was **far** too tense beneath Toki's hand. There was not much muscle to be had compared to what the Norwegian packed under his skin, but Murderface looked for all the world like a frightened dog, ready to snap at the nearest opportunity. Toki winced – why was he _hurt_ by that? – and withdrew his hand with an apologetic mumble. "Look. I – "

"You can put it back."

"...What?"

A shudder cascaded through Murderface. He did not look at Toki, but Toki could see his eyes darting this way and that, unsure of where to land. "Yer hand. You can put it back. On me. Pleasche."

...Well. That was a weird request. Toki did as requested and put his hand back on William's shoulder, absently rubbing with his thumb. "Okays."

And that was the end of that conversation. For a while they sat in silence, Murderface gradually relaxing while Toki struggled to figure out what the hell just happened. He had half expected Murderface to _punch him_ for so much as _thinking_ of physical contact. Instead the bassist looked as contented as he could get, if somewhat on edge for whatever reason...no. No, Toki _knew_ the reason - a reason ingrained in Murderface's head from what he assumed to be a very young age – but it made little sense to him. There was nothing inherently gay about touching someone's shoulder. It could be a friendly gesture with no strings attached.

There _was_ something _a little gay_ about Toki's next idea. He scooted closer to Murderface and placed his other hand on his chest, quietly asking for permission to hug him. "...You okays?"

Murderface had closed his eyes and grown stiff all over again. "'m fine," he said gruffly.

"You sures? I cans stops."

"Don't want you to. No homo." There it was. All the confirmation Toki needed about what was rattling through William's dome. It was beyond ridiculous ( _not really_ ), certainly not a phrase that **needed** to be said.

Toki repeated it anyway – "No homos." – and wrapped his arms around Murderface completely. Eventually, Murderface reciprocated by placing a calloused hand around Toki's midsection. It was...nice. More than nice. He had not expected to want something like this from _William Murderface_ , but there they were. Two grown men locked in an embrace in the hot tub. Who’d have thunk it?

"Yer warm." A hushed confession. Toki smiled, amused.

"We's in a hot tub. Ams gonna be warms."

"Not like thisch." Murderface squeezed Toki's side and leaned in, head tucked underneath the guitarist’s chin. "It feelsch better."

"Betters den the hot tub?" Toki found that difficult to believe, but he was flattered all the same. It was not like Murderface was a pain in the ass to cuddle ( _Toki would not have known beforehand, but all the same_ ).

Murderface did not let go, but he went rigid again as he looked up at Toki. "You gonna tell anyone about thisch?"

Toki squeezed back and shook his head. "Nah. Don't feels like it." They would laugh anyway. They _always_ laughed, even after all these years of learning how to _care_ for one another. Which member of Dethklok would _ever_ admit that was the case? "Ams ours little secrets."

The answer contented Murderface, who relaxed once more and even _nuzzled_ into Toki’s chest. Something nudged at Toki’s heart. Something _else_ nudged at his loins. "Anyone ever tell you ya got _great_ armsch?"

If they had, Toki could not remember it. He snickered and nosed into Murderface’s hair. "They haven'ts," he said, not questioning why he wanted Murderface to feel so special in that moment. “But thanks! I thinks I gives _great_ hugs."

"Give 'em more often, then. I..." Murderface gulped audibly. "...I could usche 'em."

The little admission hurt. Toki's smile all but fell off his face. Too tired to be much of a little shit, he closed his eyes and squeezed William tighter to his frame. "...You never asks for them."

"Doeschn't mean I don't want 'em."

"Then why don'ts you says so?"

"It'sch schtupid."

"Ams not." Another squeeze. "Hugs ams nice. You knows dat, ifs you wants 'em."

"Don't wanna talk about it." Fingertips brushed against Toki's lower back. He shuddered, bit his bottom lip to keep a gasp from escaping. If Murderface was attempting to flirt, he did a better job with his body than with his hands. "Juscht...keep me like thisch for a while. Don't let go of me." There they were again, tracing out scars and hips, and Toki was lost.

He did not know why it happened. He should not _need_ to know. Erections were an involuntary thing; not like he _asked_ to get a woody because Murderface was touching him. But those touches did not stop, and his swim trunks were getting tight, and his face went red with embarrassment and the beginnings of arousal. This _had_ to be how Murderface felt in the submarine so long ago. Had he been asked politely, Toki might have taken Murderface up on his desire for a lay. He was not the best-looking man in the world, but he was not as ugly as he thought he was. They were both so fucking _deprived_...

"Moidaface..." Toki’s voice cracked.

"Mmm?"

"D-does you, uh..." There was no easy way to ask it. "You knows whats you's doin'?" The touches stopped. Toki wished to god they hadn't.

"You don't like it?" William sounded hurt, none-the-less offering the same thing Toki had minutes before. No one could say the guy did not have his considerate moments. "I can schtop."

 _Stop._ Heavens no. They probably _should_ , but Toki did not _want to._ If Murderface's tone indicated anything, he did not want to stop either. Toki pulled away as far as he could without breaking the embrace and looked down at the bassist, who stubbornly refused to look back at him. "Looks at me."

A pause. Slowly, Murderface lifted his head, green eyes meeting blue. Toki had no clue what sealed the deal, why he leaned in and kissed Murderface on the mouth, but he _did._ He cradled his cheek, tilted his head further, and _kissed him_ with little skill and a lot of passion. And when Murderface kissed _back_ – arched into it, draped his arms around Toki’s shoulders – there was no going back. Their tongues met, their eyes closed, and their bodies pressed together up against the frame of the tub.

Toki _felt it_ , then. It was small, but it was _there_ , that tent in Murderface’s swim shorts. He nudged his knee against it and reveled in how the bassist arched towards him, rubbed himself against his leg like it was the only thing that mattered. **That** was more like it. It bordered on worship, the desire for power making Toki growl against William’s mouth. Murderface whimpered back at him, their kiss broken so they could breathe. "Looks at you..." Toki murmured. "Fuckin’s desperates."

"Nnn..."

"You shoulds haves saids somethin's earliers. You haves any ideas how to asks for a fuck?" Toki took care to not sound cruel. He was only teasing. Teasing was _fun_ , right?

"...nnn wnnt yhh..."

"Whats was dat?"

"...nn want ya..."

"Again?"

"I _want_ you!" Murderface snapped. Toki practically jumped and struggled to regain his sense of dominance. "Shit, goddammit, I _want_ you, don't – don't make me schay it _out loud_ , it'sch _gay!_ "

Only _Murderface_ could say that while he was humping a man’s leg. Toki chuckled, shook his head, and reluctantly pulled away to stand. "Gives me a moment," he said. "And takes you's pants off." With a grunt of disappointment ( _and without getting up, what **talent**_ ) Murderface did as he was told. There was no show of it; he lifted his hips, shimmied himself out of his trunks, and set them aside on some forgotten patch of floor.

Toki – though not much better – took his sweet time. Thumbs hooked beneath the band of his shorts and tugged as slowly as they could. It was damn near agonizing, and he was grateful when his cock was freed, but he _still_ took his sweet time when he noticed how Murderface gawked at him. How _delicious_ it was to know he was wanted, to have someone watch as he pulled those trunks down and let them hang around one of his ankles. Toki lifted his leg, set it on the rim of the tub, and pulled it free from his shorts with a little _plop._

Those green eyes only ever left his chest to stare at his crotch.

Toki grinned. His hand found the base of his cock and squeezed, stroked up, back down again, twice. "You sees somethin's you wants?"

There was no doubt he had Murderface's attention. The bassist was transfixed, licking his lips, his hands tight fists beneath the water and against his thighs. "Uhuh..."

That was all the consent Toki needed. Carefully, he stepped back into the tub and patted his lap. "Sits with mes. We can talks abouts it." Talk about the first thing that pops up, the thing that had popped up and stood at full attention not but two minutes ago. He watched as Murderface shuddered, felt tempted to grab himself again as he waited, but he kept still. It would do no good if he scared the bassist off now.

Thankfully, fear seemed to be the furthest thing from Murderface's mind. If it **was** there, it was for reasons _completely unrelated_ to his supposed damnation. The bassist crawled forward, hesitant, and awkwardly settled himself on Toki's lap. Toki could _feel_ that crooked little dick against his stomach, and he stifled a hiss as best he could...which was not much at all. "Schorry!" Murderface said quickly. "I'm a – a little heavy, I know, I can get off –"

"No." Toki placed his hands on Murderface’s back, stroked up and down his spine to try and soothe him. The bassist shuddered and leaned forward, their foreheads pressed together, each breath hot against the other's lips. "You don't gotta goes nowheres. Ams fine."

"You don't gotta be nice to me." Calloused hands found Toki's shoulders and held on, squeezing occasionally. Rather than pain, Toki felt a sense of comfort and pride knowing he had successfully coaxed Murderface into this situation at all. "It feelsch weird when people are nice to me."

"You gots to relax." It simply would not work if Murderface was panicking. Toki leaned upward and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I's fine. I'll tells you if I wants you off me, okay? You tells me if you wants me to stops. I amn'ts gonna gets mad, I promise."

"...Alright." That was not the voice of a convinced man, but it would do. It was all too easy to recognize the apprehension in Murderface's voice. Focusing entirely on his partner was not something Toki was used to, but it seemed he had no choice. Murderface looked so _nervous_ over something that was supposed to be _fun._ He **had** to make him feel welcome. To feel **_good._**

**_Appreciated._ **

His hands slid down Murderface's spine once more, towards his ass, between his legs. Toki licked his lips in concentration as those balls filled his palm, and he realized he had done something right when Murderface whined and tightened his grip. "I amn'ts even touched you's dick yet," he teased, glancing up at the bassist.

"S-schhut up." His grip loosened. Tightened again. Loosened again. "Ballsch are schenschitive too, you asschhole."

They sure were. The ones Toki cradled were already heavy, taut under his touch. Time to give Murderface a taste of something else. "Nots as sensitives as dis." Toki's free hand wrapped around the bassist's prick, and if Murderface had whined before, he was practically _keening_ when Toki started to jerk him off. Loud, adorable, and prompting Toki to arch upward with a moan of his own. "Dammits, ams you evens been _touched_ befores?"

Murderface did not answer him. Probably did not even hear him. He thrust his hips in time with Toki’s hand, a little more quickly than the rhythm guitarist would have liked, prompting him to nip on Murderface’s collarbone reproachfully. “Slows down. Savors its a little.”

"Come _on_..." Murderface groaned. He also slowed down. Not by much, but it was enough for Toki to stop his biting. "Thisch – thisch isch fuckin' schtupid, you ain't even schtarted fuckin' me yet."

Fucking him? Toki arched a brow and glanced at him, or at least his cheek and a bit of his moustache. "Alreadys?" What the hell?

"Yeah. Ain't that how thisch goesch? Schlam, bam, thank you ma'am?"

"No, that amn'ts how it goes. Foreplays ams first."

"Foreplay isch for pusschiesch."

"You _says_ dat, and yets yous humpin's my hand."

Another groan. Toki squeezed the base of that tiny cock before Murderface could argue any further. "You's in my laps. We goes by my rules, yeah?" Another squeeze, and Murderface seemed a little more convinced. "Savors it a littles, likes I saids."

"Mmm...what about you?"

A damn good question. Toki had planned on focusing entirely on Murderface, but it was apparent the guy had next to no stamina, and Toki's cock ached with lack of attention. Fucking Murderface was out of the question, blowjobs underwater were impossible, and Toki did not want to move from his spot. This was as close to comfortable as he could get while jerking someone off. That left only one other option.

"Shifts you's hips." Like the good boy he was proving himself to be, Murderface did as commanded. "Moves lower. Justs a littles..." God, it was like heaven when their dicks pressed together. Toki hissed through his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut, remembering for the briefest moment that he had little stamina himself. He managed to hold on though, and wrapped his hand around both their pricks with ease. Murderface easily dwarfed him. Toki could not find it in him to care.

His idea had not been lost on the bassist. William bucked forward almost instantly, swearing and straining, sweat beading at his wrinkled forehead. “Goddammit – !!” And they were lost. Neither one could speak, reduced to gasps and whimpers as they bucked up against each other. The water sloshed and splattered on the floor without acknowledgement. Toki’s tongue lolled from his mouth while Murderface grunted against hand and penis both.

It was a hot whisper against Toki’s ear that snapped him back to Earth. "Fuck me..." It was almost pained, the fear of rejection breaking Toki's heart. "Pleasche...I – I can _handle it_ , Toki, juscht **fuck me**..." God, how he _wanted_ to say yes. If Murderface was **this** eager from frotting alone, Toki could only _imagine_ what it would be like to be buried inside of him and filling him with cum. His toes curled inward and he whined. He wanted to so **badly**.

But he couldn't.

There was regret in Toki's voice, but no uncertainty. "No." He was not going to fuck Murderface without lube, and there was no lube in the vicinity. "N-not todays. Some others time."

" _Another_ time?" Murderface's eyes went wide, instantly shut tight as Toki squeezed their cocks tighter together. "Jeezsch...T-Toki, come _on_ , yer bein' a dick..."

"I amn'ts fuckin's you dry," Toki argued, and kissed Murderface before he could argue. "Some others time. Be patients for me, will yous? Dis ams...ams good enoughs." It was _more_ than enough. He could feel himself getting closer with every thrust, his hand having lost rhythm somewhere along the way. He **tried** – lord knows he did – but he was neither as skilled nor as confident as Skwisgaar. He could not make this _perfect._ He had to settle for making it _nice._

"C-can't you juscht..." Unable to speak coherently, Murderface nosed into Toki's neck and whimpered. He was close. Toki could _feel_ it in how tense he was, how he trembled against him. "It'sch – there'sch water – fuck!!"

 _No_ , Toki wanted to answer him. Even _he_ was not foolish enough to think water was a good substitute for lubricant. Alas, his words failed him. It had been too long since someone had sat in his lap, too long since someone whispered his name into his skin, _too fucking long_ since someone moaned for him and begged for him to fuck them, and he **wanted to.** Heavens above, he could _imagine it_ clear as day –

There was no telling who came first. Neither of them were particularly _quiet._ Toki gasped, eyes wide open and hips arched high as he spilled his load, and somewhere down the line Murderface had joined him with a cry of his name. The water was filthy with their seed, Toki being only dimly aware and equally as grateful that it meant he did not have to clean up any time soon. Doing it in the hot tub had been a good idea after all. He would have to remember it for next time.

...If there _was_ a next time.

"Wowee..." Toki sighed, chuckled, and awkwardly petted between Murderface's shoulder blades. It would be awhile before his legs stopped tingling, but it was **worth it.** He _needed_ that. "Dat's was nice. Wouldn't minds doin's it again." He waited for an answer – some rebuff, maybe, because there was _no way_ Murderface would agree with him – and instead got the faintest hum before the bassist started snoring.

Talk about a mood killer. Sleeping in the hot tub was _never_ a good idea.

There was some affection behind it when Toki rolled his eyes. Murderface was difficult to maneuver when he was deadweight, but Toki had carried much heavier when he was much younger. Carefully he pulled him out of the water, laid him down on the floor, and started to dry him off. Murderface's lips were slightly parted, eyes fluttering and nostrils flaring as he slumbered. At the very least, he looked peaceful. He barely even responded as Toki wiped him off.

"Don't thinks I can carries you back to you's room." Exhaustion crept across Toki’s frame; it threatened to overtake him any second. "You'll be okays on the couch, yeah?" No answer of course, but it would do. The couches of Mordhaus were comfortable enough, and Murderface had slept in far worse places. He could always say he passed out watching television. Everyone would buy it. Definitely.

* * *

"We gotta talk."

"Hmm?" Toki turned to face Nathan, a strand of hair curled and uncurled around two fingers. "Abouts what?"

"About you and Murderface doin'...ugh." Nathan shuddered as he took a sip of his brandy. "About _what you did._ In the hot tub." He paused, then added harshly: " ** _Our_ ** hot tub."

Oh. He knew about what happened. Toki had enough sense left in him before turning in to have the Klokateers _change the water_ before dawn, saw for himself how Murderface waltzed into the dining room like nothing happened ( _save for avoiding eye contact with Toki, but they could concoct any excuse for that_ ) but of course Nathan had to find out about it somehow. “Dids we wakes you up?” he asked. He **might** have sounded smugger than he needed to, but it was difficult to feel guilty when one had gotten laid. The fact that Murderface had been his partner of the evening only made it _that much more satisfying._

Nathan went pink in the face and took another drink, one **much** longer than the first. His glass was almost empty by the time he sat it back down. “ _Yes_ ,” he said grouchily. "But that's not the fuckin' _point._ You can't just **fuck someone** in the hot tub, Toki. It's...gross. How the hell are we gonna be able to sit in that thing **knowing** you two...did... _you-know-what?_ "

"You bangs goils in dere all the times."

"It's _different!_ Look, b-banging girls is _a lot different_ than..." The glass cracked beneath Nathan's fingers. "...Than doing _that_ with Murderface! God, do – do I **really** gotta **_explain_** this to you, Toki? You don't fuck Murderface in the hot tub!"

"But I dids." Toki beamed ear-to-ear, chin placed in his hands. “And I's was thinkin's of doin's it again."

 **That** got him the reaction he wanted. Wide eyes, shattered glass, whiskey and blood all over Nathan’s fingers. The vocalist was speechless, and it was fucking _delightful._ "Well! I takes dat as an _okay._ " Toki pushed his chair away, stood, and popped his back. "If you don'ts minds, I gots things to do." Color outside the lines, start a new project he would never finish, beat his meat...the usual. "I sees you later, Nathan. Good talk!" And then he was gone, replaced by a tired, shirtless Pickles in the kitchen doorway.

The drummer watched, a brow quirked as Toki all but skipped on his merry way to the room. He had half-expected sulking...but there was none, which meant Nathan had not gotten through to him. Another thing Pickles had expected. Getting through to Toki was _nigh impossible._ "Hey, Nat'en," he said gently, walking to the refrigerator to pull out a beer. "You doin' okay, over there? Yer hand looks like shit."

"This is terrible." Unable to look Pickles in the eye, Nathan settled for rubbing at his temples. "They fucked in our hot tub. This is _awful._ "

The drummer hummed, worked the bottlecap off with his teeth, and sat beside his companion with a hand on his shoulder. His fingers felt nice. "...You wanna bone in there just t' make it even?" Pickles asked. The grin in his voice was perceptible. _Like hell_ Nathan was going to turn the offer down. Besides, there was _nothing gay_ about a little _revenge._

"...Yeah."  
Nothing gay about it _at all_.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks goes to my friend Rick for playing beta on this one, and for the conversation which inspired this fic.


End file.
